Beatrice Prior and the Potato Farm
by ninjamormon
Summary: Don't read this story until you've read Percy Jackson and the Potato Farm, which can be found here: /s/9482031/1/Percy-Jackson-and-the-Potato-Farm
1. Chapter 1: The Faction Test

Nervously, I walk into the room and see a clinical-looking chair, isolated in the center. There are mirrors everywhere, more mirrors than I've ever collectively seen in my entire life because I'm in Abnegation.

"Hello, Beatrice. My name is Tori. Let's begin."

She injects me with a strange fluid and the room around me disappears. I am now in the middle of a farm where potatoes are being grown.

Out of nowhere, the crows come. They start to attack the potatoes, clawing at them and chewing them visciously.

"No!" I scream. "NOOOOO!"

They look at me and laugh, then they continue to destroy the potatoes.

"Stop!" I charge them, waving my arms to scare them away, and they leave.

The scene evolves and I am at Walmart in the gardening section.

"Choose one," a voice commands over the intercom.

Lying before me is a sack of potatoes and, to its right, a bag of Lays Original potato chips.

I don't even have to think about which one I should take. Naturally, I grab the sack of potatoes. Duh.

Get it? Naturally? Huh, huh?

A sheep dog appears and walks up to me, begging for food.

I decide to lay on the ground until it leaves.

It does.

Then, a young child wearing plaid and overalls walks in and the dog comes back, but this time it walks up to the child.

"Awe, are you hungry?" the boy asks, even though the dog can't talk. Idiot boy.

I take a potato from the sack and chuck it forcefully at the dog.

"There," I say to the boy. "Now he won't bother you."

Finally, the scene shifts and I am on a tractor, riding between fields of various crops. Beside me is a strange man with a cool mustache, driving the vehicle.

"Howdy, Beatrice!" He tips his hat to me and asks, "Do you know this guy?"

"What guy?" I wonder, looking around. "You crazy?"

He shakes his head in a chuckle, takes his hands off of the wheel and slides a thin novel out of his pocket entitled "Percy Jackson and the Potato Farm" featuring a hot, sexy dark-haired guy about my age, who has smoking green eyes and a sack of potatoes in his hand.

Even though I have never met him, I feel a peculiar connection to him, but I am hesitant to tell this to the man.

...will he kill me?

...or will he kill this hot, sexy dark-haired Percy kid?

...and why do my thought always escalate so quickly to irrationally violent assumptions like that?

"No," I reply. "But I do love potatoes."

He grins. "Atta girl!"

And suddenly, the test is over, and I am back in the chair, staring at my attractive reflection admiringly in one of the mirrors.

"This isn't good," Tori tells, pacing back and forth.

"Whatever do you mean?" I inquire.

"I'll be right back. Stay." She leaves before I can say a word and I roll my eyes. Why does this ALWAYS happen to me?

I am caught in a daydream thinking about how delicious potatoes are, when she comes back in, looking slightly relieved.

But then she takes one look at my beautiful face, concerned again (probably because she's jealous of my angelic looks) and states firmly, "Your results are inconclusive."

"Incon-whatta?"

"Inconclusive."

I scratch my head. "I'm sorry, Tori, but I've never been good with big words. Could you simplify it for me?"

She looks around cautiously even though we're the only ones in the room and clarifies, "It means that you aren't like most people. You don't exactly fit into any one faction. People like you? You're called...potato farmers."

"Potato farmers?"

"With a Z."

"So...I'm a...potato farmer..."

"SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she spits obnoxiously, and yells literally two inches from my face, "YOU CAN'T EVERRRRR TELL ANYYYYYYONE THAT YYYOOOOOOUUUUU'REEEE A POTTAAAAAAAATO FAAAARRRRRRRMER! IT'S TOO DANGEROOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS! SO DON'T EVER TELL ANYONE THAT YOU'RE A POTATO FARMERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"Okay, okay...I hope the whole world didn't hear that, Tori...I mean, if you ask me, that was a little bit counterproductive of you to scream it at the top of your lungs, but-"

"HUSH, BEATRICE PRIOR THE POTATO FARMER!"

I sigh and throw my hands up. "Fine. So, which faction should I choose tomorrow, then? I mean, frankly, the potatoes in Abnegation are disgusting. I don't know if I can bear it anymore."

"I manually entered your test results into the system so they wouldn't show up as inconclusive," she informs me. "I put in Abnegation, but it's up to you to choose whichever faction you desire. But if you'd like to farm some potatoes, then Amity is the place to do it."

"Awwwwe, Amity?" I frown, admittedly disappointed. "Dang it, I HATE Amity! I hate PEOPLE!"

She shrugs. "Hey, do what you want, gurlll, but just so you know, this really hawt guy who goes by the nickname "Four" is going to be an Amity trainer during initiation. And, trust me, that boy can _farm_."

Hmmm...hum...hmm...

...

Interesting.

I walk out the door and my brother Caleb, who is standing there waiting like the true idiot he is, asks me why it took so long.

I just laugh. "You're a dork."

And I run off into the sunset, excited to choose my faction tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2: Return of Yellow Brick

"Welcome to the 74th annual Hunger G-whoops, sorry, wrong movie," Jeanine Matthews apologizes. "Welcome to the faction choice...thingy."

I roll my eyes. Jeanine is so dumb.

Erudite's quality of education has only been going downhill.

That's why I'm going to choose the smart faction, the only one where you're allowed to farm. It's been scientifically proven that farming regularly makes you more intelligent-unless you're Norwegian, of course.

"Caleb Prior."

My dumb brother stands up and makes his way to center stage. He steals the microphone from Jeanine and announces, "Ladies and gents, I am pleased to formally announce that I will not be choosing a faction. Instead, I aspire to become a hip-hop dancer among the factionless. So, instead of putting my blood in a bowl, I'll just lick it off of my hand to show my barbarism."

He takes the knife and slits his hand, drawing blood onto the blade.

And he licks it.

"OW!" he screams when he accidentally chops off his tongue. It flies through the air and lands on a boy named Edward.

"Cool, a free tongue!" he exclaims, pocketing the beauty. "Now I don't have to buy one off of the black market!"

The crowd goes silent.

"Oops, guess I shouldn't have said that out loud..."

"Arrest the boy," Jeanine orders.

"Not on my watch!" I suddenly shout, hopping to my feet. I honestly don't know where that came from. I'm the most selfish twat the world has ever seen! That's why I'm leaving the Abs, after all.

Speaking of abs, I don't have any. Word on the street is that I'm pretty weak. Small frame, incapable of battle. No Dauntless for me.

Jeanine gapes at me and inquires in a British accent, "And-who are _you_?"

"Beatrice Prior the Potato Farmer! Actually, just call my TrisPF."

"No."

I groan, "Auhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmjhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

"Just come choose your faction, little girl," she commands, tapping her foot impatiently.

The nearest guard stares at her, confused. "But...but what about the boy?"

She sighs. "Oh, well. If Tongue Boy wants to behave like a psychopath, so be it. I have more important matters to worry about. For example, let's just say that there's a new episode of Teen Wolf on tonight, and I really want to watch it-hypothetically, of course-but I couldn't watch it because all I could think about was Tongue Boy, getting arrested for collecting tongues. Bleh. Just let me enjoy some Tyler Posey."

I step forward towards the bowls, and everyone stares at me. "STOP LOOKING AT ME," I scream in frustration, turning around.

Jeanine rolls her eyes again. "Alright, alright, everyone stop staring at TrisPF."

"Finally, _someone_ who cares. Thank-you," I snark. I step towards Amity without hesitation, accidentally chopping off my entire arm.

"AAAAGGGGGGHHHHAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!" I squeal.

The arms flies streaks across the arena and Edward jumps into the air to catch it skillfully in his left hand. "YES! ANOTHER FREE-hey, wait a second, this isn't a real arm! TrisPF is a _liar_, this is just one of those fake gag arms people use in pranks! See?"

The audience gasps and I laugh obnoxiously. "Ha! Y'all kin fell f'rit. I ain't one of dem candor folk."

"Then what are ya, ya lug?" shouts a random citizen from the audience.

I flip my hair egotistically. "Potato Farmer. Remember?"

I push my real arm back through my shirt sleeve and scrape a few drops of blood from my wrist.

I flick them towards Amity, but, WHOOPS, some loose droplets also land in Dauntless.

The crowd gasps again and erupts into argument and unruliness.

"A divergent! SHE'S A DIVERGENT!"

Jeanine doesn't care, though. Instead, she shouts repeatedly, "Order! Order! We _will_ have order in this faction choosing thing! Order!"

And that's when I start to laugh obnoxiously again.

The crowd slowly falls silent.

"Fooled you once, shame on me, fooled ya loons twice, shame on your family's cow. Guys, I TOTALLY used fake blood. See?" I whip my handy dandy ketchup bottle out of my pocket. "Here, Edward."

I toss it to him and it lands perfectly into his outstretched hand.

"Enough! Enough of these game!" Jeanine shrieks. "Just...j-j-just tell us what faction you're in. Please."

I sigh. "Oh, alright. Amity."

My dad stands up in the crowd. "NOOOOOOOOO!"

Jeanine is boiling now. "Prior! Shut it."

Then the darndest thing happens:

A yellow brick falls falls through the ceiling and hits my father in the head, knocking him unconscious.

The brick rebounds and lands in Edward's lap. "Cool! A yellow brick!" He stands and chucks it back through the ceiling,

Never to be seen again.

Because it doesn't come back down.


	3. Chapter 3: French Shouting

The Amity initiations are a piece of cake.

Literally.

Because the instructor decides to serve us cake the first day.

"I'm...Four…" he tells in between bites. "What...about...you?"

Everyone silent, I perk up when I realize he's looking at me.

"Uh...are you talking to-"

"Yes...yes, Tris...I'm...talking...to you."

"I'm sixteen…"

"NO...your...name!"

"Uh...but you already-"

"Shhhhhhh-" He puts his finger to my lips and then stuffs a full slice of cake into my mouth. "Just eat the Amity cake."

My mouth full, "Four, I'm a potato farmer!"

….

Silence.

….

And then chaos.

"SHE'S A WHAT?"

Christina gapes at me. "Tris, I...I can't believe you're...you're...oh, I can't even say it…"

She starts to cry.

Everyone screams:

"Potato farmer!"

And "Tris is a Potato farmer!"

And "I can't believe there's a potato farmer here!"

And even an unexpected "Nico will avenge you!"

Four stands up, pulls out a gun and shoots a hole into the ceiling. Still eating cake in between words, he shouts, "Alright...everybody...listen...up...NOW!"

….

Silence.

….

"Tris may be a…" Four pauses and coughs out in a nasally French-accented voice, "POTATO FARMER…"

Edward gasps.

"But...she's not the only one, okay?"

Will jumps up. "OKAY, FOUR, WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?!"

Four shoots the ceiling again. Still in his French accent, "Shut up, Will!" All of the sudden he grabs my arm, then drops the gun in his other so he can carry the cake with him, too. "Au revoir, foolish Amity children!"

We run and we run and we run.

In circles.

Because only seconds later we end up where we started.

"You're back already?" Christina wonders, wiping a tear of joy from her eye.

I shrug. "I mean, I guess so...good thing my idiot brother isn't here."

I'm not really sure why I say it, but that doesn't mean I don't mean it. Because I do mean it. There is nothing I mean more than that.

We run the circle (well the loop is honestly shaped more like an egg) five more times until Four runs out of breath because the cake makes him gain fifteen pounds on the spot and his finesse is gone. "Egad, how is it that I am so out of breath?"

Eric walks in. "Uh...I heard French shouting…"

"Alright, Enough!" I take the gun from the ground (which, surprisingly, no one else even touched while Four and I were running around) and shoot it into the ceiling. "Eric, I have a confession."

He gets all starry eyed and blinks at me. "Why, darling, TrisPF, what is it?"

I take a deep breath. "Eric, I...I'm a potato farmer."

Batting his eyes, "Oh, why, I know that, TrisPF."

I smile relief. "Really?"

"Yeah. Remember? You told everyone at the ceremony. I don't know why Four is making such a big deal about it, but...potato farming is actually highly respected here in Amity."

"But, Eric...Amity has never had a potato farm."

He lowers his head. "No, we have not...because every time it's attempted, the potato farmer mysteriously dies."

"Oh."

Four has eaten the entire cake now. "So you're saying Tris and I can farm together?"

Now Eric has the French accent. He throws his arms out like an excited chef. "But of course! Wee wee!"

"Do you have to pee, Eric?" Four asks.

"No, it's just something French people say."

I smile. If Four and I can potato farm together there's really nothing to worry about.

There's never anything to worry about in Amity.

Four finds another cake. "Let's...go...start...that...farm!"

Everyone puts their hands in the middle of the circle.

"Okay," I say. "On the count of three. One, two, three…"

We all say it at once:

"Huzzah to potato farming!"


End file.
